


Switch

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-20
Updated: 2007-05-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:16:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco get to take a walk in each other's shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mordyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordyn/gifts).



> A/N: Written as a special gift for Mordyn. 
> 
> Beta: Sevfan *loves*
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Switch

~

_The roar of the crowd was deafening, and he loved it. As he flew around the pitch once more on his broom he saw his arch-rival staring at him, and he smiled. Victory would be his, he just knew it._

_A glint of gold had him moving before he was even conscious of it, and the other followed, as he’d known he would._

_No one would have heard a muttered incantation, nor been aware that anything was wrong until the world went white for the two players who were so involved in their chase..._

Sitting up, he looked around, his eyes skipping over the empty room. He recognized the infirmary at once, of course, since he was quite familiar with it. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious this time. 

_And where’s Pomfrey?_ he thought. _She’s usually hovering over me when I wake up._

He thought back to what he could remember of the accident that had landed him in the infirmary for the third time in as many weeks. 

He remembered Malfoy chasing him and the Snitch, remembered Ron yelling something and then, wham, nothing.

_Must have been another Bludger accident_ , he thought. _Those things are dangerous_. He actually felt okay, though. Not even a twinge of pain. 

Swinging his legs over to the side of the bed, he sat still for a moment to get his bearings, and then stood up. 

He felt better than okay, he felt really good, although he wondered where everyone was. Usually, when he was in the infirmary, he woke to Hermione and Ron’s anxious faces above him. 

He walked towards distant voices, and pushed back a set of curtains. 

He smiled. There were his friends. 

“Hey, Ron, Hermione, what are you...?” His words cut off as they turned towards him, irritated looks on their faces. 

“What do you want?” Ron asked angrily. 

“Ron?” he said uncertainly. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione held the other boy back as the redhead started towards him, fists clenched. “You bastard!” Ron yelled. “You did something to him!” 

He stepped back. “What?” he repeated. “I did what to who?”

Hermione, eyes narrowed, pulled Ron aside. “You did this!” she screeched, pointing to the bed that they’d been blocking. 

He gaped at a covered figure who lay there, eyes closed. 

“Is he... is he dead?” he asked, voice tight.

“No, he’s not,” Ron cried. “No thanks to you, though...”

Before he could say anything more, Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room, brushing by him. She was followed by Snape, who gave him an odd look when he shrank back. 

“What is wrong with you?” Snape asked, stepping up beside him. 

Before he could answer, Pomfrey turned towards him.

“Finally awake, then?” she asked. “Good. You can tell us what that was that you yelled during the game. Was it a spell? Is that why Mr. Potter is not yet awake, Mr. Malfoy?” 

For a long moment, Harry stared at them in horror, and then he began laughing. “Oh, you had me going for a minute,” he chuckled. “Dunno how you managed to get Pomfrey in on it, though...”

Madam Pomfrey, her pinched face showing profound disapproval, said, “What are you on about, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Come on! I’m not Malfoy, I’m Harry,” he said, still grinning. “Joke’s over. You can all stop playing now, yeah?”

Hermione shook her head, a look of pity on her face. “This is too low even for you, Malfoy!” she spat. Stalking towards him, she stopped directly in front of him. “You think you can get out of this by pretending to be brain injured?”

Harry backed up. An irate Hermione was nothing to fool with. 

“Hermione, quit kidding,” he said, smile faltering. “It’s me. Harry. Look, I’ve glasses...” 

His hand reached to his face for his glasses but he hit the bridge his nose instead. 

Hermione watched, hands on her hips, as he felt around his face. 

“Hey! The accident must have fixed my vision, you guys!” 

Ron snorted. “Come off it, Ferret Face,” he snarled. “You can’t fool us. You planned this whole thing, and we know you did. You were just waiting for a chance to hex Harry. It’s the only chance you’d have of winning...”

A heavy hand came down on Harry’s shoulder. 

“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley.” 

Snape’s voice sounded smooth and smug with suppressed satisfaction. “I am sure that Mr. Malfoy is a bit... stunned at the moment. Mr. Potter was not the only one who fell at that game today, as you might recall. Perhaps Draco, too, has a concussion.”

With a vicious smile, he continued. “Madam, perhaps the infirmary should be closed to non-injured personnel until we ascertain what has happened? In addition, all this activity cannot be good for Mr. Potter, who has yet to awaken.”

As Hermione began trying to argue, Harry looked up at Snape, who was still touching him. He shivered as his fingers tightened into his shoulder. He recognized the universal signal for “shut up” when he felt it. 

The mediwitch ushered his friends out of the room, despite their protests, and as the door closed in their faces, he stepped away from Snape. What in Merlin’s name was going on?

“This is quite disturbing. I shall go and find the Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Are you all right, Mr. Malfoy?”

Harry didn’t say anything until Snape cleared his throat, then he looked up and nodded. 

She gave him a sharp look and then bustled out, muttering something about ‘barbaric games’ under her breath.

As soon as she was gone, Snape bundled him into the other corner of the room and spun him around to face him. 

“What are you playing at, Draco?” he said, frowning. “Is this some sort of game?”

Harry crossed his arms. “Okay, this is not funny, sir,” he said. 

“I agree,” Snape said, eyes peering at him penetratingly. 

Penetratingly? Oh, Merlin...

Snape’s mouth fell open, and he stepped back. 

“Potter?” he said. “It really is you in there, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded miserably. “I guess this isn’t a joke, and I really do look like Malfoy, sir?”

With a snort, Snape Levitated a mirror from the corner over to him, and Harry got his first look at himself since waking up. 

He couldn’t credit the reflection. There was a young man who looked an awful lot like Draco Malfoy staring back at him. Same blond hair, same icy grey eyes... Except, this Malfoy wasn’t sneering, in fact, he looked pretty friendly. Well, a bit scared, too, truth be known, but relatively friendly. 

“I should have known it was you,” Snape was muttering as he paced back and forth. “Draco would never have just blurted it out like that. He would have played with it a bit first. Pretended to be injured...”

The thought occurred to them at the same time, and Snape almost caught Harry before he made it to the other side of the room. 

“Malfoy! Get up, you wanker...”

Harry skidded to a stop in front of Malfoy’s, no his, no... oh hell, in the other boy’s bed. 

Malfoy sat up suddenly, dislodging the sheets, which pooled around his groin. His hands couldn’t be seen. Harry stared at them suspiciously for a moment, and then he looked up.

Seeing his own face staring back at him made Harry quite disoriented. He took a deep breath before he said, “What have you done, you arse?! And don’t try anything queer with my bits!”

A sneer crossed Malfoy-Harry’s face. 

“Oh please. As if I would have anything to do with ‘bits’ of yours, Potter...”

And then it hit him that he was looking at himself. He ran an incredulous look over Harry’s form and gasped, as if seeing Harry properly for the first time, which he probably was. “What the...?”

He spotted Snape over Harry’s shoulder and snapped. “Professor! Potter’s been playing with Polyjuice...”

Snape pinched his nose as if he had a massive headache coming on. Harry thought he actually might, given the circumstances.

“It is not Polyjuice, Draco. It appears that you have both switched bodies somehow. Look.” 

The same mirror that Harry had looked in floated its way over to Draco, who, taking one look in it, shrieked and dropped it onto the bed. 

Snape shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“Precisely,” he said. 

“But... You have to fix it! My mother will...”

“Your mother is not here!” Snape said sharply. “Nor shall you be sending her any hysterical owls until we decide how to reverse this.” 

“Why not?” Draco asked shrilly. “Potter looks like me! What if someone captures me and turns me over to the Dark Lord?” He stuttered to a stop, a panicked look on his face. 

Snape sighed. “Fine, Draco, then do not get captured!” 

Draco pouted. “Easy for you to say, I’m just a student, and now I’m the biggest target in the world. Maybe if we tell everyone so people know that I’m not actually Potter...”

“They do not make Slytherins the way they used to,” Snape muttered. “Let me explain this in short words so that you might understand. Potter is in your body. You are in his. If we publicize this, don’t you think some enterprising student might tell their parents? And if there is confusion, what will they do? Turn both of you over! If either of your bodies is harmed, what chance do you think you’ll have of surviving the experience?”

Draco pursed his lips. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “But he’ll get my chocolate shipment...”

“Shut up, Draco. If I hadn’t known that you had switched bodies, it would be obvious as soon as you both spoke.” 

Draco’s mouth fell open, and Harry smirked. 

“That’s more like it,” Snape said. “Practice those expressions while I think.”

Draco flopped back onto the bed heaving a huge sigh. 

“Ugh! Trapped as Pott-head, in his body, even. What an ugly fate,” he groaned. Then, he grinned evilly. “But, it does give me a chance to compare and contrast...” 

Before Harry knew what he was up to, Malfoy had opened his trousers and was peering inside. Harry went for his wand, only to find it wasn’t there. 

Draco snickered. “No wonder you reached for another wand, Potty,” he crowed. “Looks like you need the help with this one...”

With a growl, Harry launched himself at Draco and landed on top of him making him grunt with the impact. 

They rolled around tussling for a while, as Snape continued to ignore them. Finally, when the commotion got too loud, he shook his head again and immobilized both of them. 

Harry, frozen in place on his back where Malfoy had wrestled him, tried to glare at the boy with his face that was looking down on him. 

Meanwhile, Malfoy tried with all his might to move so that he could get in one last hit, but then, realizing too late that perhaps marring his own pretty face was not in his best interests, settled down. 

“I am going to leave you like that until I can locate the Headmaster and inform him of this disturbing occurrence,” Snape said silkily. “Perhaps that position will give you both a chance to think for a change.” 

With a swirl of robes, he was gone. 

Harry, trapped as he was underneath Malfoy, looked into his own eyes, and for the first time studied his own face. 

_My eyes are quite nice. Very green_ , he thought. _Hmm. I wonder if Malfoy can even see me?_ His, well, his _body’s_ glasses had rolled off in the tussling, so probably not.

He checked out his scar, which didn’t look that bad from this vantage point. It was a faint pink tinge on his forehead, and he wondered how it looked when he was sensing Voldemort through it. 

He tried to shift and found he could move a little. 

_Oooh, the spell must be wearing off_ , he thought, and redoubled his efforts. 

Malfoy, sensing the movements, also started to try to twist, and within a few minutes they were subtly squirming against each other. Neither one could move enough to do anything too violent to the other, however, so it was all a bit pointless, until Harry felt his cock starting to react. 

_Malfoy is a pouf?_ he thought, surprised.

Although, from the feel of it, Malfoy was having a similar problem in _his_ body, since Harry could now feel an answering hardness pressing down on him. 

_But then, if Malfoy in my body is reacting, then shouldn’t I be able to control this body’s reaction? Does that mean that I’m one, too...?_

Harry, unable to grapple intellectually with the question of his sexuality at that very moment, redoubled his efforts to break free of he spell. By now, he was sweating, and his fingers could move enough to clasp Malfoy’s shirt. 

Unfortunately, that only resulted in pulling Malfoy’s face closer....

Harry gasped as Malfoy’s lips grazed his. The tip of Malfoy’s tongue pressed against the seam of his mouth and then their tongues, evidently the first muscles in their bodies to regain completely free movement, were wrestling for dominance. 

Back and forth they traded, until Harry felt Malfoy’s hands clasp his shoulders and pull them closer together. 

Harry moaned as Malfoy pressed down harder against him, and now their cocks were grinding together, and Harry felt as if he was going to come apart. No snogging session with any girl had ever felt like this... 

It was sublime and glorious and way better than even flying, and then he was engulfed in an explosion of ecstatic feeling as his cock pulsed hot come between their writhing bodies. 

Malfoy came only moments after, his eyes closed, screaming into Harry’s mouth. 

They lay together panting, and then pulled apart slowly. 

“Guess the spell’s worn off,” Harry said, his arms flopping to his sides bonelessly. 

Malfoy rolled off him and groaned. “Yes, brilliant deduction, Potter,” he said. 

“Must you be such an arse?” Harry asked. 

Malfoy laughed softly. “Why not? You mean you think we should be nice to each other simply because we’ve had sex?”

Harry raised up on his elbow. “No, I think we should be nice to each other because we’re in each other’s bodies,” he said. “How would you feel if I walked back to Slytherin right now and propositioned, say... Goyle?”

Malfoy sat up, horror etched on his face. “You fucking... You wouldn’t!”

Harry smiled. “I would, _and_ I would have Colin take pictures,” he said. 

“Fine. What do you want?” Malfoy said, resigned. 

Harry considered. Maybe he could work something out with his rival, but it would have to be terms the Slytherin would understand... “Okay, then. One. You will not turn my body over to Voldemort.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Oh please,” he snorted. “That’s out of the question. You’ve got _my_ body, remember? Plus, the bastard would likely just use the Killing Curse on the both of us to be sure you were dead, and while _you_ might survive it, I don’t want to test if it’s your body or your mind that has the immunity.” 

Harry nodded. Good point. “Great. Well then. Two. While we’re in each other’s bodies, we only... er... no fooling around with other people. We only sleep with each other.”

Malfoy raised one eyebrow. “You _want_ us to continue sleeping together?” he asked. 

Harry nodded, feeling as though his face was flaming. 

Malfoy watched, interested. “I can blush?” he asked. “Funny. I never knew that. And why do you want us to continue sleeping together?”

Harry flushed brighter. “I... I had fun,” he haltingly explained. “And I want more practice. It doesn’t matter what you think, so I’ll practice with you. Agreed?”

Malfoy nodded slowly. “All right, but I am not bottoming until I decide you know what you’re doing, clear?”

“Bottoming?”

Malfoy sighed. “Spare me from virgin Gryffindors. I’ll explain later. What else?”

Harry continued. “Three. We don’t tell anyone else about this,” he said. 

Malfoy’s eyes shuttered, and Harry was surprised to see his own face could turn so cold. “Do people know you’re a pouf, Potter?” he asked. 

Harry blushed. “Not really. I mean, I didn’t know, actually,” he said. “‘Til just now... But I didn’t mean the sex, anyway, I meant the body switch.”

“Oh.” Malfoy nodded again, and something about his body language made Harry think he’d suddenly relaxed again. _Must be because he’s in my body_ , Harry thought. Funny how he was so attuned to the other boy now...

“This might all be moot, you know?” Malfoy said casually. “Dumbledore could be on his way here right now to reverse this.”

Harry shrugged. “He might. But if he isn’t, we could be trapped like this for months.”

“We’d better not be,” Draco growled. “I don’t know how long I could keep my father from finding out about this.”

“But, if we don’t tell anyone, then how will he find out?” Harry asked. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Snape is a Death Eater, you dolt! How the fuck do you _think_ Lucius will find out? At the next fucking Death Eater meeting, that’s how!”

Harry shook his head and then spoke unthinkingly. “But Snape’s a sp...” He blanched and shut his mouth, but it was too late. 

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed calculatingly. “Snape’s a spy, of course! Good thing I’ve thrown my lot in with you people,” he said. “You cannot keep a secret. And, while we’re on the subject, you’re going to have to stop talking so much and being so bloody Gryffindor while you’re being me.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, kicking himself mentally for letting such a big secret escape. 

Malfoy sighed. “You broadcast everything, Potter! Right now you’re worried about what you just told me. And now you’re worried because you think I could be reading your mind. I’m not, you just happen to be wearing my face and you’re really open right now.” 

Harry paled and Malfoy shook his head. “Forget that you told me about Snape,” he said. “Don’t you get it yet? I am on your side, and not just because I have to be. I had already... Well, never mind. Anyway, Snape will no doubt check me when he gets back, if he’s at all worried, he’ll probably Obliviate me.”

Draco shook his head. “They will chew you up and spit you out in Slytherin if you go back there like this!”

“Well, you’re going to have to change, too,” Harry said sullenly. Malfoy was right, he was realizing. This would be no lark if they were stuck like this for any period of time. The people in Slytherin were quite likely to shake his hand and then ship him off quietly to Voldemort once his back was turned if they found out. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of that,” he said. “But, I’ll have it easier. I’ll have the Weasel and Granger backing me up everywhere, and they won’t bat an eye if I’m moody once in a while. You do it all the time.” 

Harry’s mouth fell open in shock. “You watch me?”

Malfoy shrugged and ducked his head. “Well, ‘know your enemy’, they say,” he muttered. 

“Are we enemies?” Harry asked. 

Malfoy shrugged again. “Fuck if I know what we are,” he said, picking at the sheet idly. “All I know is, we do have to cooperate if we’re going to get out of this in one piece.” 

He looked up and Harry found himself pinned by his own green stare. “Were those all your conditions?” Malfoy asked. 

Harry nodded. 

Malfoy smiled. “Fine. Then I agree to your conditions, if you’ll agree to mine.”

~

Severus finally located Dumbledore walking back from Hagrid’s hut. 

“Headmaster, I have news,” he said, almost smiling at the thought that perhaps _this_ would remove the perpetual twinkle from the old man’s face. 

Dumbledore smiled at him. “Oh? Anything wrong, Severus? Is Harry all right?”

Severus fell into step beside him. “Technically, Mr. Potter is fine,” he began carefully. “However, there has been a bit of an... accident.”

“Oh?”

Severus explained in a low voice, keeping his eyes trained on Dumbledore’s face, looking for a fading in the Merlin-be-damned twinkling. 

Dumbledore did not oblige. “Oh, my geas has kicked in, then,” he said happily. 

Severus’ eyebrow rose. “Your... geas?” he asked carefully, wondering if anyone would notice if he simply struck Albus over the head and hid the body. _Minerva probably would, the busybody..._

“Why, yes,” Dumbledore elaborated, seemingly unaware of his Potions master’s less than charitable thoughts. “I decided it was time that Harry and Draco worked out their differences, so I spelled the game so that they would switch bodies the next time anything malicious sprang up between them. One of them must have been plotting something.”

Severus adroitly avoided Dumbledore’s knowing gaze. They both knew that Potter simply didn’t have the will nor, to Severus’ thinking, the wits, to have contemplated anything to sabotage Draco. Plus, it would offend his Gryffindor sensibilities anyway.

“I... see. Well then, Headmaster, how do we reverse this geas?”

“Oh, _we_ cannot do anything, my boy. The lads have to do it themselves. Once they have genuine compassion and understanding for each other, and _feel_ what the other does, then the spell will reverse itself. And no cheating, Severus. I shan’t allow you to help them reverse it.”

Severus stared at Dumbledore, speechless.

“Oh, it will be fine,” Dumbledore continued, not noticing or possibly not caring about Severus’ shock. “They can fix it between them, I’m sure.”

“Not without them killing each other, Albus!” Severus said, fighting to hold on to his temper. “And what am I to tell people in the meantime?”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply but at that moment Fawkes chose to appear. Severus sighed at the suspicious timing.

“Ah, old friend,” Dumbledore said, patting the phoenix gently. “I suppose that means it’s time? I must go now, Severus. Not to worry. They’ll be fine. They are both resilient lads. You’ll figure it out.”

Before Severus could say another word, Dumbledore was gone, and he was standing there gaping at the Dumbledore shaped hole that was left. 

“I hate my life,” he muttered as he walked back to the school. 

~

As he approached the infirmary, Severus could feel his headache getting worse. He was on his own, he could tell that Albus was going to be absolutely no help. 

He listened at the door for a moment to see if he could hear any arguing and then, hearing nothing, opened the door, hoping that there hadn’t been any bloodshed. 

He gaped at the sight that confronted him. 

Draco was relaxed, his arm wrapped around Harry, or was it he other way around...? Anyway, the two of them were wrapped around each other on the cot, fast asleep. 

Severus sniffed, his sensitive nose picking out the scent of sweat, several pain potions and... sex? 

He groaned and Draco... no, that was Harry, opened his eyes and looked at him. 

“Snape,” he exclaimed, sitting up and jostling Draco, who in turn woke up immediately. 

Severus briefly contemplated deducting points from Harry for his insolent form of addressing him, but then dismissed the idea. It was too complicated keeping track of who was who. 

“I have discovered the reason for your body switch,” he announced, watching them closely. 

Harry perked up immediately, while Draco... Interestingly enough, Draco looked almost upset. Severus filed that information away to think about more later. 

“It appears that the Headmaster, in his infinite wisdom, set a geas upon the two of you such that should there be any attempted sabotage of the Quidditch match, a spell would cause the two of you to experience what the other does. Apparently, this caused a complete transfer of your personalities into the other’s body.”

“Dumbledore did this to us?” Draco in Harry’s body exclaimed. “Why that...”

“Draco!” Severus warned. 

Draco shut up immediately, but continued mumbling under his breath. 

Harry didn’t have it in him to disagree too much with Draco’s assessment, actually. That the Headmaster might be behind this hadn’t occurred to him. 

“So, that means he can fix it?” he asked. 

Severus sighed and sat down heavily. 

“Evidently, he is unable,” _or unwilling_ , “to reverse it. That will be up to the two of you.”

Both boys’ mouths dropped open, and if the situation hadn’t been so serious, Severus would have laughed. As it was, he actually sympathized.

“How?” Harry asked. 

Severus looked squarely at Harry. “You have to demonstrate compassionate and understanding feelings for each other.”

“What?” Draco screeched.

“You heard me,” Severus said. “That is what the Headmaster said.”

“This is impossible,” Harry said.

Severus suppressed the urge to agree wholeheartedly. 

~

“I am not going in there,” Draco as Harry whispered. 

Severus rolled his eyes. “You have to go in there,” he said. “This is now your common room.”

“But it’s full of Gryffindors!”

Completely exasperated, Severus smacked Draco in the back of his head. “Get in there now,” he said. “And do not let anyone know what has happened until we figure out how to reverse it.”

“Have fun, _Potter_ ,” Harry as Draco said, grinning widely. 

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Laugh it up,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what happens to you in Slytherin.” With that parting shot, he whispered the Gryffindor password that Harry had finally shared with him earlier, slipping through the portrait hole.

“All right, to the dungeons,” Severus said, and Harry sighed, gazing longingly at the Fat Lady before turning away. 

Inside, Draco took a deep breath and turned to survey the room, not sure what to expect. 

“Harry!”

He blinked and then was bowled over by a diminutive form. His arms went reflexively around the person before he looked down to see who he was holding. 

“Weas... Ginny!” he said.

Her wide grin faltered. “Oh, Harry, did I hurt you?” she asked, pulling back and starting to pat him down in a far too familiar way. “We do need everything to be in full working order,” she whispered, giggling. 

Draco stepped back. “What?” he snapped. “I’m fine,” he said curtly. “Unhand me.”

Ginny stepped back, shocked, as Draco swept past her. 

“Harry, you’re all right!”

Draco sighed as he was attacked again, this time by Granger and then Weasley, who walloped him hard on the back. “Ow!” he yelped when Ron smacked him.

“Oh, sorry, mate,” Weasley said, not appearing sorry at all. 

Draco rolled his eyes as more people began questioning him all at once. It was all a bit overwhelming, and all he wanted to do was have someone show him his bed so he could retire and think about his day. 

“Look, I’m knackered,” he finally said, turning towards Granger in hope that she would help him. “Can I tell you all about what happened to me tomorrow?”

They all rushed to his rescue, Weasley dragging him towards the stairs while Granger harangued everyone else about bothering him. Draco grinned. This was pretty cool. 

Weasley led the way up the stairs and they stepped into what looked like a mirror image of his room back in Slytherin. 

Four beds with obnoxious red curtains were there, and Draco hesitated as he tried to figure out which bed was Harry’s. 

Neville Longbottom walked in behind them. “Hullo, Harry,” he said. 

Draco didn’t say a word, and Ron nudged him. 

“Huh? Oh, right. Hi, Longbottom,” Draco mumbled. 

Neville’s eyes widened. “You all right, Harry?” he asked.

Draco nodded. “Yes, I’m just... tired.”

“Go to bed then, mate,” Ron said. 

“Erm, right,” Draco said, stepping towards one of the beds. 

“Oi, that’s my bed,” Ron said, laughing. “There you go.” Spinning Draco around, he pushed him in the direction of one of the beds. “Bloody hell, you must have hit your head really hard.”

Draco smiled weakly, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. 

“You get some sleep, mate, yeah? I’m going to say goodnight to Hermione.” With a wink, Ron left the room.

“Ginny was upset,” Neville said softly. 

Draco looked up at him. “What?”

“When you came in and she hugged you, you pushed her off and I think it upset her.”

Draco groaned. “She was being all clingy. I cannot abide that.” Collapsing onto the bed, he closed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry you said that,” Neville said. 

Draco cracked one eye open. “Why’s that, Longbottom? Why do you even care?”

Neville sighed. In a move that shocked Draco with its swiftness, he pulled his wand out, aiming it at Draco.

“Who are you?” Neville asked. “You’re not Harry Potter, so who are you?”

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Neville cut him off. “Never mind,” he said. “The Polyjuice should wear off soon enough, then we’ll know who you are.”

Draco closed his eyes with a sigh. He would never live it down if people found out he’d let Longbottom get the drop on him. _Well, at least I can take a nap in the meantime._

~

Harry had an inkling of what Draco was going through when he stepped into Slytherin, and every eye turned to look at him. 

Snape had dropped him off with the same admonition he’d given to Draco, and Harry was very conscious that he needed to be as Draco-like as possible while with his new house-mates.

“Drakey-Poo!” Parkinson cooed, stepping forward and linking her arm through his. “I was soooo worried about you.”

Harry wondered if Draco really allowed her to call him that, then decided to let it go. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to imitate Draco’s sneer as best as possible. 

It seemed to work since the crowd parted fairly easily to let them through. 

“We’ll be in my room,” Pansy threw over her shoulder, and before Harry could object, they were up the stairs and in a more feminine version of his dorm room, only with green instead of red. 

“Finally alone,” she said once the door was closed. 

“Erm...” Harry gulped, unsure of what Draco’s relationship with Parkinson was, and certainly not prepared to do anything of a personal nature with her. 

She looked over at him. “Well, why are you standing there?” she demanded. “Sit down for Merlin’s sake.”

Harry shuffled over to a chair and sat as she began removing her robes. 

“Parkinson, I’m really tired...” he began. 

She whirled, hissing at him furiously. “Shhh! They’re still listening, you prat. We had a deal, remember?”

In a louder voice she said, “Oh, Draco... Mmmmm, yes, just like that.”

A giggle outside her door made Harry’s eyes widen and he realized that they were under surveillance. 

“Go away, you arses, you’re all just jealous!” she yelled, smoothly putting up a Silencing Spell. 

“There,” she said, satisfied. “That will make them think we’re having wild monkey sex. If only they knew, hm?”

“Knew?” Harry wished he didn’t sound like a bloody echo, but he was completely confused.

“That you’re gay,” Pansy said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Harry nodded, relieved.

“All right,” Pansy said after a long look at him. “Now, I have been meaning to talk to you, Draco, and it’s about something serious.”

“Oh?” Harry said. 

“It’s about what we’re to do about Potter.”

~

“You still look like Harry,” Neville said. 

Draco, almost fully asleep, groaned. “Yes, I know,” he said. “That would be because I am not Polyjuiced.”

“But you’re not Harry, either,” Neville said. “I know that for sure. He never calls me Longbottom, and you didn’t even know which bed was yours until Ron showed you.”

“I hit my head today, Long... Neville,” Draco said. “I think I have reason to be a bit off, don’t you?”

“Not this much off,” Neville said firmly. “You may not be using Polyjuice, but I still know you’re not Harry, so if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll tell Ron you’re an impostor and he won’t be happy.”

Draco cracked an eye open and considered the other boy. When had Longbottom gotten this stubborn?

Sighing, Draco sat up. He couldn’t let Neville tell anyone that he wasn’t Harry, that would put Harry, in his body, in danger. So aggravating...

“All right,” Draco said, staring Neville in the face. “You’re right, I’m not Potter, but you can’t tell anyone, and here’s why...”

When he finished, Neville was sitting on the edge of his bed, a faraway look on his face, his wand still pointing at Draco. 

“Do you believe me?” Draco asked. 

Neville nodded. “Yes, I do,” he said. “It’s too crazy of a story not to be true.” Obviously coming to a decision, he put away his wand. “I won’t tell anyone, Draco,” he said. “But you can’t hurt people either. Harry doesn’t do that, so if you’re mean, people will know you’re not Harry. And you should tell Hermione. She’ll figure it out soon enough anyway.”

Draco considered this. Again, Neville was probably right. Bloody Gryffindors. 

“I’m going to bed,” he declared. “Goodnight, Long.... Neville.”

“‘Night, Draco,” Neville said, his face disappearing as Draco closed the bed curtains, and, even as tired as he was, he still didn’t sleep for a long time. 

~

“What about m... him?” Harry asked, wondering how much more surreal this whole situation could get. Here he was, discussing himself with someone who was, in all likelihood, a junior Death Eater.

“Well, I told you before, Draco,” she said, pacing. “I’m worried.”

“About?”

She stared at him. “Did you hit your head?” she asked. 

“Actually, I did,” he said. 

Her eyes softened slightly. “All right, I’ll remind you, then. I think we need to join Potter. That snake-faced monster isn’t going to win, so I think we need to go to Dumbledore or Potter or whoever and join their side.”

Harry blinked. “You want to join m... Potter?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Have you not been paying attention? I’ve been saying this since last year, Draco. I know you got angry when your father went to Azkaban, but he... well he’s safe there, at least. I think you should listen to your mother and not take the Dark Mark.”

“I... I’ve been thinking about that,” Harry said, realizing that that was what Draco had been trying to tell him earlier. 

“Well good,” Pansy said. “Now we just need a way to convince Potter we’re sincere.”

Harry smiled. “You know, I think I have just the way to do that.”

~

Severus was pleased to see both Potter and Draco alive the next morning. He’d had his doubts, but had hoped that they would manage to conceal their true identities for a day while he did some research. Unfortunately, he’d found nothing that indicated a way to reverse the geas. 

The Headmaster, of course, was still missing. Severus suspected he would be gone until the situation sorted itself. _Then, he’ll return and take credit for saving the day._

Naturally, everything hadn’t gone completely smoothly that morning. Potter had immediately headed for the Gryffindor table, and if it hadn’t been for Parkinson’s unsubtle shove, he would have made it. 

And Draco... Draco looked as if he’d not slept at all, although he had somehow managed to do something with Potter’s bird’s nest hair. It was the calmest he could remember seeing it. 

Oddly enough, it appeared that Longbottom had taken Draco under his wing, guiding him to the Gryffindor table far more subtly than Parkinson had managed to guide Potter.

Severus wondered how Potter would manage to simulate Draco’s breakfast habits. Almost groaning aloud, he saw the moment he got into trouble by reaching for the bacon. Casting a Listening Spell, he eavesdropped.

“What are you doing, Draco?” Zabini asked, astonishment colouring his voice. 

“What do you mean?” Potter asked.

“You hate bacon. You’re always lecturing me on how only unhealthy it is.”

Potter blinked, then shrugged, apparently deciding to bluff it out. “Changed my mind,” he said, taking a bite. “I’m a Malfoy, I can do that.”

_Well played,_ Severus thought. That was exactly what Draco would have done had he been caught in a lie. Turning his attention to the Gryffindor side of the room, he listened at the inane conversation there. 

Draco was answering all questions in monosyllables, ignoring Granger and Weasley... in sum, he was being a right prat. 

Severus shrugged. They would let him get away with that for a day, but the Granger girl was curious enough for two people, and she would begin to put two and two together if she thought about it for any prolonged period of time. 

“Severus, are you well?” Minerva asked solicitously. 

He nodded. “I am just planning my lesson for today,” he said. 

She nodded. “Very well. Oh, and Albus asked me to let you know that he had to make a quick trip to Romania, and he will return soon, but that you are to handle everything, whatever that means.”

Severus didn’t even bother to reply. It was probably too much to hope that a stray dragon would swallow him. _Probably give the creature indigestion anyway..._

He continued ruminating on the problem most of the morning, and he practically growled as an idea came to him that afternoon. No, it couldn’t be... But Albus was notorious for doing things quite literally. As Severus prepared for Potions that afternoon, he wondered if the plan would work, and decided to try it.

~

Harry had hoped he would actually enjoy Potions for the first time in his life. He was now a Potions genius, so it stood to reason, he thought. At least, until he remembered who taught the class.

“You shall be working with new partners today,” Snape declared as they all walked in. 

Harry wasn’t surprised when he got Malfoy, realizing this was a chance to benefit from his rival’s superior Potions knowledge, and that, for some reason, Snape wanted them together. He hadn’t counted on it being because he wanted them both to get into trouble, however.

Every little thing Draco did in Harry’s body, Snape ignored, all whilst hovering over Harry like a huge bat. And no one appeared to be paying attention to him staring at ‘Draco’ at all.

“What are you doing?” Snape asked several times, even as Draco, in Harry’s body, worked calmly next to him, left to his own devices.

“Making the potion,” Harry replied each time, teeth clenched, and each time Snape muttered something unintelligible as he wandered away.

Harry tried to look as if he knew what he was doing, but it was clear that Draco was the more confident brewer. Even Harry noticed the looks ‘Harry’ was getting, realizing that to Hermione, it would seem strange that he had suddenly acquired Potions mastery so quickly.

He nudged Draco.

“What?” Draco asked, looking up, a frown of concentration on his face. “Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

“Looks as if you suddenly got smart in Potions, _Potter,_ ” Harry said, eyes darting towards Blaise and Hermione, who had been paired up and were both watching them closely.

Draco blinked. “Oh! Right... well, I guess Potions suddenly makes sense to me, _Malfoy_ ,” he replied. “Are you having trouble with it?”

“Problem, gentlemen?” Snape asked silkily, making Harry jump.

Both of them shook their heads, and, with one last warning look, Snape strolled away.

The rest of the class passed in silence, Harry and Draco trying to remember to play their roles correctly.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter,” Snape said at the end of the session, staring down at their collaborative potion. “Who would have thought that between the two of you you could exhibit such Potions... prowess?”

Harry stared up at him, surprised. “Erm, thanks...”

Snape continued. “Such unexpected success. Perhaps I need to assign the two of you as partners for the rest of the week. In fact, I have a special project for both of you. You shall start immediately, and, between you, you may come to some better understanding of potions and... other things. Remain after class for a moment.”

The class was quickly dismissed, and Snape put up a Silencing Spell before turning towards them. 

“Could you be any more obvious?” he snapped. “The both of you are making it crystal clear to anyone who is observant enough to notice that you are not yourselves!”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, shutting up immediately when Snape sent a sharp look his way. 

“Now,” Snape continued. “The Headmaster insists that this geas is reversible only by the two of you, and all my research agrees. To that end, I plan to detain you both here until you work this out and manage to regain your own bodies somehow.”

Draco looked horrified. “But what if we can’t? We can’t stay here forever...”

“I doubt it will take forever, Draco,” Snape said, smirking. “I think you both just need some motivation. And don’t worry, I shan’t starve you. I’ll send one of the house-elves with meals and such. Just remember what he said. Have compassion, understanding and... _feeling_ for each other.” 

After shooting a meaningful look at Draco, he left.

Once he was gone, Draco collapsed onto a bench. “This has got to end,” he said. 

Harry nodded, settling next to him. “Yeah. So what was that when he left?”

“What was what?”

“He looked at you oddly.”

Draco cracked open an eye. “What are you talking about, Potter?”

“Snape. I think he was trying to give us a hint.”

“About what?”

“How to get rid of the curse.”

“Oh?”

“Well, he emphasized the word feeling, maybe he means, literally.”

Draco blinked. “If you want another go, Potter, just say so.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say that! Didn’t you get the hint he was trying to give? Maybe if we grope a bit, _feel_ each other, that will satisfy the requirements of the geas.”

“Hm, maybe... You know, that’s not a bad thought,” Draco said. “Your brief time in Slytherin seems to have paid off, Potter.”

“Hey, I could have ended up there... And speaking of my time there, did you know that Parkinson wants to defect to my side?” Harry asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean you could have ended up there? And did she tell you that?” At Harry’s nod, he pursed his lips. “Interesting. She must be getting impatient. Anyway, yes she does. Now, what was that about possibly being in Slytherin?”

Harry quickly told him the story of his Sorting, and at the end, Draco shook his head. “Only you, Potter,” he said, chuckling. “And by the way, speaking of your side, I should tell you, Longbottom is quite sharp.”

“Yes, he is,” Harry said. “What happened?”

Draco told him how quickly Neville had discerned that something was off about ‘Harry’, and Harry laughed. “Yes, that sounds like him. I’m surprised Hermione didn’t figure it out, though.”

“I think she was distracted,” Draco said. “Much longer and she might have.”

“Anyway, Pansy said _you_ wanted to switch sides in the war, too,” Harry continued a few moments later. “Is that true?”

Draco hesitated, then nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco shrugged. “I believe I did tell you if you’ll recall, Potter.” 

“Yes, but...” Harry shut up. Actually, Draco _had_ told him, he just hadn’t really believed him. 

“You didn’t believe me,” Draco said shrewdly. 

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t, that’s true. But I do now. I’ll talk to Dumbledore. So,” he said, deciding to change the subject. “Do you want to try _feeling_ each other?”

“Sure,” Draco said, leering. “Although, come to think of it, we had sex before, and it didn’t put us back into our regular bodies...”

Harry blinked. “Wait, maybe that’s it!” he said. 

“What’s it?” Draco asked. 

“We had sex before yes, but we were fighting. Maybe if we have, um, less antagonistic sex we’ll have enough good feelings or whatever for each other that this thing will reverse.”

Draco sat up. “You know, that’s not a half bad idea,” he said. “And even if it doesn’t work, it’s still sex.”

“There is that,” Harry said, grinning. “So, now what?”

“Now, you come here,” Draco said, patting the bench invitingly. 

“On that hard thing?” Harry said. “Not on your life!” With a wave of his wand, he transformed it into a comfortable cot.

Draco sunk down in the pillows. “Mmm, right, good idea.”

Harry settled next to him gingerly. “So, um, how what?”

“How should I know? You’re the shirtlifter,” Draco said, leaning back.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re as much of one as I am. Pansy and I had a nice long chat, yeah? So don’t try to lord it over on me. Plus, you mentioned ‘bottoming’ last time and I was the one who didn’t know what that meant...” Harry’s words were interrupted by Draco’s mouth, which attached itself to his with some force. 

Relaxing into the kiss, Harry immediately felt the difference between this encounter and their last one. For one thing, he could use his hands to run over Draco’s shoulders and back. It was much nicer than trying to dodge punches, and secondly, his whole body was invested this time, not just his mouth. His cock especially appreciated the freedom to move and grow.

Draco rolled them, so that they were now on their sides facing each other. Pulling his lips away, he said, “Bottoming means to be the receptive partner, Potter. And since you’ve no idea what you’re doing, I think you should be it.”

Harry blanched. Yes, he’d done some minimal research when he’d realized that he liked men, but this was more than he’d considered. 

“Do you really think we have to do that for the geas to be reversed?” he asked. 

Draco shrugged. “I think I don’t want to take the chance of it not working.”

“And you’ve done this before?” Harry asked. 

Draco looked away briefly. “Pretty much. I’m familiar with the technique,” he said.

Harry shook his head. “No way! You’ve never done it before either!”

Draco sighed. “I’ve at least bottomed before, and if us having sex is the answer to our problem, then we have to do it somehow, yeah? If not this way, then how?”

Harry considered this, realizing Draco was right. “Okay, well, I’ll bottom first as you said, but then you’ll bottom, too, got it?”

Draco smirked. “Of course. Now, let me show you how it’s done.” And with that, he leaned in, capturing Harry’s lips once more in a searing kiss. Whatever else he hadn’t done, Harry quickly realized that Draco was a superb kisser.

He was nudged onto his back and he went with it, the weight of Draco’s body pressing his down oddly reassuring. 

They fumbled with clothes, Draco continuing to scatter kisses across Harry’s face and neck even as their hands ripped roughly at robes, shirts and trousers. 

Sooner than he would have thought, Harry was naked and being driven into the cot by Draco’s thrusting movements. At least this answered his last lingering questions about his orientation. He was clearly into men, the sensation of Draco’s firm muscles pressing into him was quite arousing in a way he’d never felt when he’d tried anything with girls.

Their cocks, wet with pre-come, were rubbing together, the sensation making Harry pant and arch to get closer. Draco was making choked sounds above him, and Harry had to admit that the realization that he was clearly affecting Draco only aroused him more.

Instinctively, he opened his legs in response to Draco’s hand probing between their bodies. He moaned as Draco cupped his balls, gently rolling them before moving on to stroke his cock lightly. He thrust up into that talented hand, tilting his hips up enough to allow Draco’s fingers to be able to reach his hole. 

The tingling of a Cleansing Spell coupled with spreading lubrication let Harry know what he was in for. 

“Relax,” Draco whispered against his mouth, and before Harry could scoff at that unlikely occurrence, a finger was pushing inside his bottom. 

The feeling was odd, but not unpleasant, and, as Draco’s other hand distracted him by stroking his cock firmly, Harry relaxed into the sensation, instinctively pushing down and allowing deeper penetration. 

“I have to stretch you more,” Draco gasped, and Harry felt a second oily finger just _there_ , jabbing inside him. This time, it hurt a bit, and he yelped. 

Draco stopped immediately. “You okay?” he asked. 

Harry, panting, said, “Just... give me a minute, yeah?” and Draco nodded, allowing his fingers to remain just inside Harry without moving them. 

“Okay,” Harry said a moment later.

Draco surged forward, engaging Harry’s tongue in combat before twisting his fingers just so, hitting a spot that made him gasp.

“Your prostate,” Draco mumbled, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s jaw.

Harry nodded, swallowing heavily. It all felt good, but the big event was coming up, and he was still dreading the pain. And when you factored in that technically it was his own cock that would be doing this... Harry’s head hurt at the implications of _that_.

“One more finger and you’ll be ready,” Draco said, and it was too late to change his mind, Harry realized. Something impossibly big was pressing at his arse, and a searing pain made his cock wilt a bit.

“Just... give me a moment,” Draco grunted, and Harry gritted his teeth. 

“Hurts,” he complained.

Draco had sweat on his brow, and he was clearly holding back. “I know, just... relax a bit and it’ll get better.”

Harry closed his eyes and lay utterly still. The pain was fading fast, and he shifted experimentally.

Draco moaned. “Don’t do that,” he gasped. “I can’t be responsible...”

Harry moved again, and the feel of Draco sliding deeper made his cock twitch in renewed interest. “Move,” he said, and Draco needed no further encouragement.

Settling his elbows next to Harry’s head, Draco began to move in and out smoothly. “This... is so... weird...” he gasped as he got closer.

Harry, beginning to see why people enjoyed doing this, started meeting him thrust for thrust. “What?” he asked.

“I’m fucking... myself,” Draco said, and Harry grinned.

“Yeah, that is weird...”

He could tell the moment Draco started to come; his thrusts became more erratic, shorter, until he was pounding at Harry, who didn’t mind so much since it was beginning to feel good. Before he got to the point that he was ready to go, however, Draco gave one last push, and shuddered, collapsing on top of Harry with a heartfelt moan.

Harry, his cock still hard and throbbing, pushed at Draco’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re not done yet! It’s my turn now.”

Draco raised his head. “Yes, it is,” he murmured. “Now, do you think you can duplicate what I just did?”

Harry nodded. 

“Good, then let’s go while my body’s still relaxed,” Draco said, rolling onto his back.

Harry followed, and soon, he was nudging at Draco’s well loosened and lubricated arse. It was easier this time, especially as Draco had been very willing to help with the necessary spells.

Harry hesitated. “Are you...?”

“Yes,” Draco said, pulling Harry’s head close to breathe against his lips. “Now fuck me.”

Apparently Draco liked to bottom. Harry pushed, and Draco pushed back, and he found himself enveloped in the tightest silken heat he’d ever felt. Better than anything he’d ever imagined. 

As he continued thrusting, Harry began to sense a tingling in his lower body that was spreading through him. His eyes locked with Draco’s as pleasure began to overwhelm him, and they tumbled together into ecstasy, his essence pulsing out of him in waves, along with his energy. His last thought was to wonder if it had worked before slumber overcame him.

~

Severus decided to give them a good two hours before going back in to check on them. He wondered if they had understood his unsubtle hints, then shrugged. Trust Albus to make it so that he couldn’t just tell them plainly what to do.

“Meddling old man...” Severus was muttering to himself as he unlocked the lab, pausing before opening the door.

They had done some transforming, and where a bench had been there was now a rumpled bed. In the middle lay Potter, his arms wrapped around Draco. Both seemed to be asleep, and Draco’s head was lying on Potter’s shoulder. Luckily, they were covered and they looked peaceful. It made Severus want to throw up. 

“Draco!”

Both sets of eyes flew open, and for a moment, Severus feared it hadn’t worked. 

“Which one of you is Draco?” he snapped, staring searchingly at the blond. 

“I am,” Draco answered, the brunet beside him blinking in confusion, and Severus relaxed. 

“Thank Merlin. It appears to have worked. Come with me, Draco, we have things to discuss. Potter, I trust you can get back to the Gryffindor tower on your own?”

Harry, back in his own body, nodded. “Erm, we need to get dressed,” he said. 

Rolling his eyes, Severus turned his back pointedly. 

Harry turned to Draco. “Are you going to tell him?” he whispered, tilting his head towards the forbidding figure.

Draco nodded. “Yeah, I will, you just... go home. I’ll... be in touch.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the exchange but said nothing. He suspected the old fool had been right again, damn him. It did seem as if they had worked something out between them. He was sure Draco would be asking for his help in switching sides, if he hadn’t already asked Potter. 

As he led a now dressed Draco away, he averted his eyes from the lingering looks the two young men exchanged, and from the suspicious red marks on Draco’s neck. Some things it was better not to know. 

And back in his office, a twinkly-eyed old man smiled to himself and put his crystal ball away, satisfied at the successful execution of his plan. There would come a time when it was critical that these two understood what it was like to walk in each other’s shoes, and now they did. Success, and perhaps even happiness, was within their grasp, and the world was a brighter place that night.

~


End file.
